


The Recipe - See Nash Write: The Best of the Shorts

by SeeNashWrite



Series: SeeNashWrite: The Best of the Shorts [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 19:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeNashWrite/pseuds/SeeNashWrite
Summary: For my 300th follower celebration at Tumblr this summer, I asked the Nashooligans for three words upon which to build anything from a drabble to a dissertation. The catch? Those three words had to make me cringe. Some really nailed it, some were unsure, and some just flat-out used things that make me *personally* cringe, but regardless, well… as they might say in Sparta, this was madness.This bit's words? Sick. Soup. Bones.





	The Recipe - See Nash Write: The Best of the Shorts

“Sick bones, are those rat?”

Sam stopped polishing and turned his head, giving his brother a quick up-and-down. Still the occasional stifled cough, still a little pale with a dash of circles under-eye, and still pajama'ed, but definitely seemed to be turning the proverbial corner. The past week had been near-torture for the both of them - and they would know.

“Ah… sorta. Found a ritual we might wanna use at some point, thought I’d get ahead of the game.”

“‘Sorta’,” Dean repeated. “Well, I won’t ask, ‘cause if my gut declares war again…”

He trailed off with a shudder, and Sam followed suit.

“This smells like the back end of a hellhound, but damn if it ain’t working,” Dean continued, then took a healthy gulp from the mug he held.

“Heh.”

It was Sam’s only reply before he quickly diverted his eyes, returning to his work.

Dean pulled out a chair and sat next to him.

Now  _Sam_ gulped.

Dean didn’t notice.

“Hey, and sorry about the thing yesterday, with Dad’s kitchen sink stew - you made it right, it wasn’t anything you did.”

“The ‘thing’ being the bathroom spray-a-thon?” Sam asked.

Upon seeing Dean’s expression shift to something akin to hurt feelings, he then backtracked, not wanting to start anything, given the circumstances.

“It was no big deal, you’d do the same for me. Didn’t take much napalm.”

Dean chuckled, brought the mug to his lips again, and after he swallowed, he let out a touch of a satisfied  _mmm_.

Sam felt beads of sweat form along his hairline.

“No more food truck Mexican-Kung-Pao-fusion for me, I swear. Anyway, this stuff? Liquid magic….”

Sam’s whole body began to tense.

“.…no joke. You get the recipe from Jody or something?”

“Or something.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed.

Sam’s buffing sped up.

“Old Bobby concoction?”

Sam cleared his throat.

Dean took in another mouthful, but abruptly spit it back out, stared down into the mug for a brief moment, then set it on the table with a sharp thud.

The minuscule skeletons rattled.

Sam hesitantly looked over, saw Dean had blanched slightly.

And then, slowly, Dean reached into the brew, extracting something small, veined, iridescent, the light from the lamp causing the glittery edges to shine more and more as the pinkish, viscous soup dripped away.

Sam mentally cursed himself for not de-winging the fairies thoroughly.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is fuel! Let me know if you enjoyed. -Nash


End file.
